


It Never Snows Here in Summer

by Puniyo



Series: Let Them Talk [6]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, alternative universe, banter and crude language, mention of kinks, rentboys and hustling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 23:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: ‘This is a charity gala.’ His hair is really defiant and Yuzuru lets it remain wild as it wishes, much to Javier's amusement. ‘For people with wallets heavier than your balls.’‘Oh, do tell me how heavy my testicles are? Care to weigh them now?’





	It Never Snows Here in Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all, this is a piece that was written a few months ago, got shoved into the drawer and miraculously appeared on me today. It's just a short episode between our boys after all they have been through and we are all in need of some fluff lately. I know I am. 
> 
> Disclairmer: This is a work of FICTION. Self-explanatory. Art for art's sake.

‘What if Brian finds us here?’

‘I didn’t know you were such a chicken, Yuzuru.’

The younger man steps out of the red taxi in an impeccable long tail tuxedo and polished leather shoes on the concrete pavement. He fixes a couple of strands of his hair that weren’t properly slicked back as Javier stands next to him after persuading (and flirting) with the driver to charge them less. Free preferably.

‘This is a charity gala.’ His hair is really defiant and Yuzuru lets it remain wild as it wishes, much to his partner’s amusement. ‘For people with wallets heavier than your balls.’

‘Oh, do tell me how heavy my testicles are? Care to weigh them now?’

He pushes him away with mocking force while giving him the middle finger and the most professional smile he could fake, the one that had his patrons at their feet (sometimes other body parts too), as they enter the _Evening Dew_ , a private club known for gatherings of social elites and their (human) pets.

‘What? Were you expecting me to bring you to the Nostalgia alley?’

‘I was _thoroughly_ entertained there last week I must say.’

‘How much?’

‘Secrets of the trade, Javi.’

‘Please teach me, _master_.’

Yuzuru flinches slightly as Javier whispers that name to his ear, the warm air escaping his lips and tickling the sensitive patch of skin at the back of his neck.

‘Not now, I know.’ He gropes the younger man’s butt, perfectly round and supple covered by the velvety finesse of the pants they both had borrowed from Chen, one of the tenants on their apartment complex who helped at the wardrobe of the local theater. ‘Saving the best for last.’

‘Sometimes the sun goes ‘round the moon,’ Yuzuru chuckles as he corrects his posture when the receptionist appears from one of the inner rooms, ‘originality is not your forte I’m afraid, Javi.’

‘You’re really hard to please.’ The Spaniard pulls out two envelopes, their names written in gold ink and in a cursive handwriting that Yuzuru does not recognize. The lavender stationary is strongly perfumed, of shredded frangipani and tattered ylang-ylang, and he wonders who actually spends their credit cards on something so trivial.

‘It makes them more obedient.’

They both stare at each other in a match of wills to see who is the first one to concede defeat. Javier rarely wore such delicate garments and Yuzuru is relieved that he doesn’t. The sight of straightened hazelnut locks, shaved face but still darker on where the beard would grow back, dark blue bow tie just below where the Adam’s apple was, silver cuff links in the shape of feathers – Yuzuru is fighting a much voracious battle with his libido and he bites his lower lip, hoping the friction would make him forget (it doesn’t) the modest bulge in the other man’s pants.

_Damn you Javier for being this handsome._

‘Mr. Yuzuru and Javier Hanyu? Please sign here.’

The younger man looks confused but Javier answers affirmatively for the both of them. He is the first one to scribble it inclusive on the guest list, the ‘H’ too tall and the leg on the ‘Y’ almost running over all the other letters, before handing him the fountain pen. Yuzuru notices that there is already a _Fernández_ among all the names but he doesn’t mention it.

‘Is this the moment where I cry that I have found my lost brother?’ He wipes the non-existent tears on his eyelids, the impertinent quirk of the corners of his mouth taunting his partner. ‘Separated at birth, each one on a different pole, you surviving in the paws of the snow bears and I pampered by the breast of the penguins, drifted apart by the melting glaciers. Oh _Javier_!’

The staff member hands them a pink carnation for identification and points them to the furthest room to the left. Yuzuru still manages to muster a brief ‘thank you’ as the Spaniard disguisedly pulls him by the elbow and they turn right as they reach the end of the hall. The cloakroom is unusually unlocked and he smirks as Javier shoves him against the back of the door.

‘That hurts, _brother_.’

‘Do you think of me as family?’ He is dangerously close, so close that Yuzuru could even count the faint freckles.

‘Do _you_?’

‘Brothers don’t do this.’

Javier presses his crotch against Yuzuru’s, rubbing it slowly until he sees the impertinent grin dissolving into pleasure. He kisses the plump lips, delicious sweet as vanilla, diving his tongue in when the younger man opens his mouth willingly. He drinks of the muffled moans and all the other noises that he wants the whole building to hear. Javier wipes the wet trail of saliva on Yuzuru’s bitten bottom lip, his finger smeared with the lipstick gloss.

‘Still so sensitive.’ Javier brings the digit to his mouth but Yuzuru seizes it and sucks the tip with fervor.

There is a moment of weakness on his knees and it is then that the young man releases him, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. The few strands of purple on his hair reflect the faint light of the fluorescent lamp in the room, augmenting the seducing magic of his silhouette and the brilliance on his aroused pupils.

‘Still so brute, _brother_.’ Yuzuru feels a hand on his as he turns the knob to give them access back to reality.

‘Only for tonight I will let you have your way.’ And Javier kneels on the floor, pretending to tie his shoes, while his cheeks nudges on Yuzuru’s inner thigh and up to his zipper.

‘I always have my way.’

He leaves Javier behind who curses from almost falling at the lack of support.

_Will things always be like this, simple and uncomplicated? Will you be always be here like this?_

It is some sort of déjà vu the suffocating and oppressing atmosphere of the ballroom, of all the people (visibly older) chatting in their own social circles and the crystal flutes clinking until they broke. Yuzuru too drinks of half-a-century old champagne and even though it tastes delicious, the bubbles soon fade on his throat and it is only bitterness left. He nips on the miniature strawberry and custard tarts as he walks to Javier who is admiring the orange liquor flames of the _crêpes suzettes_.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘Trees.’ Javier steals a bite of the deconstructed sweet canapé at his hand.

‘I didn’t know you had decided to pursue a career in horticulture. I hope it’s organic.’

‘Come here.’ He leads them both to the empty terrace, the harmony of the live string quartet almost inaudible and their absence not detected by the other mechanic pawns in the salon. Javier hugs Yuzuru from behind, his crotch gently (but firmly) hustling the young man’s peach to move forward until they both lean on the marble railing. ‘There,’ he points at the copse of bushes, the crowns of thin leaves pale under the moonlight, ‘yuzu trees. This is the only place in the city with them.’

A tree with his name.

Yuzuru smiles sheepishly, recoiling into the embrace, the weight of his whole body fallen onto the Spaniard’s arms with absolute trust.

Javier kisses the exposed nape, lingering at the blurred mole that he has just found out, as he whispers to his partner’s ears.

‘I want to fuck you under those trees.’


End file.
